Tinnie Moe Poems

Let's hope we do not break you
and
we keep you from harm and
illustrious ideas.
...

In the deepest morning of Gaia's green
in the deepest yearning of all unseen
there lies a harsh mourning vast
it seems
...

how Quiet my ears delude me
as in a whisper of a nothingness

Somewhere something touches a peacefull void
...

Fluffed air, baked in sunlight, twirls between green
shivering leaves
of the refreshing mark it them leaved
...

and I'm still here,
if time does not expire

apathetic
...

Let me tell you this story, as eager as you are to hear. For what i'm about to tell you, might frighten you to rear. This is not a disneyplot or a teddybear's roar that nightly comes to soar, this is cold hearted darkness, utter deception further more.

In a brownbricked little factoryhouse, with a big white door with ocrish and bronse handle and windowcage, a pure evil started to spread. A blonde ponytailed girl tried to save to world and to this it has all lead. The earth is bad and nearly dead, she said, we must defend our nature's green, for if we don't our earth shall never again be seen.
...

The birds in the sky remind me of why
such an automn came to thus

an awefull lots of winds of browns and greens
...

Green windfields on cows
and pigs a little with a weathleaf at my lips
Windmills and faeries around
...

Drifted in by tidal waves
with hugs of attachment
on the shore of the North Sea
a poem from Burma washed up.

No sun, no moon, can be seen
on the Norwegian beach.
Wearing the robe of mist
going up the Scandinavian mountain
with a shaken, broken voice
singing a home-sick song.

Someday
I will surely arrive at some point.

Though our homeland is under darkness
it will be short-lived.

Soon in the sky
dull darkness will clear,
a brightly coloured dawn
will arrive.

A journey of ten years
as short as a snap of the fingers.

A poem
will pack treasure
enter the village gate
greet 'hello'
a chance to hug the public.

But now . . . atop a snow-covered mountain
while hoping for the light
singing homesick songs
lighting up a lantern of hope,
to keep singing of what I miss.
...